A Forbidden Birthright

Chapter Four

Hermione pushed open the door of the Irish muggle pub in downtown London where Harry and Ron sat red faced, two empty pints of beer on the bar beside them each, a fresh one in each of their hands. She rolled her eyes as she approached them, shrugging off her thin sweater, but then paused when she caught sight of the man she hadn't noticed sitting with them.

With dark brown hair and matching eyes that glittered in a way she didn't like, she recognized him as the man Ron had befriended in Spain, Caspian. His laughter rippled through the pub, a rich sound, and he made a comment about something she couldn't quite hear, but his Scottish accent was a confirmation she was right about who he was.

Seeing him annoyed her, slightly. Today might be a depressing and dreary anniversary, but it was still special, at least to her. Despite the horrific conditions that forced them on their journey, it was the first time the three of them had left Hogwarts with nobody but themselves. It was both a painful and guiltily nostalgic time for Hermione, and they had never shared this day with anyone but each other, or at least they had all done their very best to meet up, or check in on the hard days. Never had they been accompanied by a stranger.

But then, she supposed, this man wasn't a stranger, not to them. Clearly, they were all quite comfortable with each other, having a grand old time without her. But she couldn't blame them; she didn't have a right to be upset. They were allowed to have friends other than her, of course. There's no reason it should bother her.

She did her best to shake it off and slid into the empty seat next to Harry, slinging her bag over the back of her chair. Her two friends broke into a loud chorus of, "Hermione!" and her face broke into a smile.

"Hello, Harry, Ron. It's good to see you both," she replied and waited for one of them to introduce Caspian.

When neither of them did, and Caspian himself stayed silent, watching her with a look that made her want to pull her sweater back on, she leaned forward and rubbed her hands nervously across her thighs. 

"Who's this?" She asked finally with a forced laugh.

"Oh, yes!" Ron cried overexcitedly, leaning to the side and bumping Caspian with a shoulder. "This," he slurred, "Is my dear friend Caspian. You remember me talking about him, don't you? We met in Spain. He's a cheeky fellow, isn't he?"

"Yes, Spain, of course," Hermione said, raising a polite hand to the bartender. "How could I forget?" She bit back the sigh in her throat.

"We almost forgot you were coming," Harry interrupted. "Sorry for drinking without you. Just so happens today is the same day Caspian here was accepted by the Ministry. We're celebrating," he said with a raised glass.

"What branch?" She asked Caspian from across Harry, and then said quietly to the bartender, "A cinnamon whiskey, please." 

"Same branch as Ron," he replied with a grin. "Department of Magical Games and Sports. Lovely to meet you, by the way. I've heard so much about you."

"Is that so?" She asked, Ron shooting a wide eyed glance at Caspian.

"You've made quite the name for yourself. How could I not have?"

She noticed Ron sag slightly in relief.

"Yes, I suppose so," she said, thanking the bartender for the drink and taking a sip. Not like the fire whiskey at home, but a glass of this would suffice. Its heat would burn away any discomfort and disappointment at her time with her two best friends being interrupted by a stranger, surely.

"That manifesto of yours was something else, to be sure. I was impressed by your conviction," Caspian continued, dark eyes glittering. "You caused quite a stir."